Family Tree
by GoldenMiniJ-17
Summary: Hannah Rowland discovers her ancestors in her school history class and decides to find out all she can about them. What she learns is truly inspiring and when trying to find out more by asking her family, her questions remain unanswered, creating a dangerous curiosity... Full summary inside.
1. History Project Hannah 2012

**Helloo!**

**Just had a spark come into my mind this morning and this story will be the result :D**

**This is a Sybil and Tom story though they won't appear at first - I'm going through the generations.**

**I know its been up for a few hours but when it came to uploading I had to leave for work so I couldn't introduce it! Anyhoo I hope you enjoy it.**

**_Summary_  
**

**_Hannah Rowland discovers her ancestors in her school history class and decides to find out all she can about them. What she learns is truly inspiring and when trying to find out more by asking her family, her questions remain unanswered, creating a dangerous curiosity. What had her ancestors done that was so bad to silence them all?_**

**__Enjoy!**

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**Hannah Rowland.**

**16 years old**

**Dublin, Ireland.**

**June 2012.**

**9:02am.**

I ran down the street, my school bag hitting everything and everyone in sight; I couldn't care less. This was the third time this week that I was late for school and I don't think that I could bribe my way out of this one, not this time. I pulled the bobble from my wrist, wrapping it roughly through my messy brown hair. I'm not even certain that I've brushed it.

I managed to get through the school gates before they closed and locked, hissing 'yes' in a small victory. I slowed my pace, looking like one of the stragglers that hated school, delaying their entry for just a few more minutes.

"Morning, Miss Rowland." A snooty voice sneered. Obviously my lateness didn't get past her.

"Morning, Mrs Howe," I grumbled, stomping into my form classroom in defeat.

I tugged and pulled at my blazer; I hated school uniforms. I tried to look presentable but after running for about a mile, you kind of lose any hopes of looking good. I pulled up my socks, rearranged my skirt and pulled my hair down again; hopefully it will be dry now. Yes, I was that late that I didn't even have time to dry it.

It was all Mam's fault, she didn't wake me. I told her that my alarms not working and that I'll need waking up but no, she forgot! And here we are; me looking an awful mess and my form teacher Mr Donnelley, frowning at me in disgust.

"I see you just made it, Miss Rowland? It's nice to see you at 9 this morning,"

"Yeah," I grumbled, mumbling curse words at his sarcasm. After my morning, I have no tolerance for it.

I sighed, sitting down, slamming my bag on the table.

"Hey moody," one of my friends teased. Charlene. I turned to see her smiling wryly, her mobile in her hand. Oh who was she talking to now? This girl knows no end of trouble, but she brings it on herself so I don't have much sympathy.

"Hey Char, oh you don't know that half of it," I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

"Mam?"

"Yup,"

She sighed too; she knows all the troubles that I'm going through with my Mam. Mr Donnelley then appeared in my peripheral vision, making me turn and Charlene quickly hiding her phone in her pocket.

"Now, I know it takes effort for you to get here on time Hannah, but please, when I call your name at least have the courtesy to answer!" he said sternly. I nodded glumly, pulling a daft face at him when he turned away. I hated him, and the feeling was definitely mutual.

"You got your history homework?" Charlene asked.

Oh yes, did I ever. I loved history. It was so interesting seeing how people before us lived and worked and loved and dreamed….the possibilities are endless for curious people like me. For history, we had to write a family tree, going back as far as we knew so we could research the rest. However, being the history geek that I am, my teacher, Miss Truman, said that I could research as much as I wanted to find out as much as I wanted. It's fair to say, I'm top of the class.

The bell sounded and as luck would have it, today is Wednesday; history first. I smiled the whole way there, my friends thinking that I'm mad for loving it and some pondering on how they could lie on getting out of not doing their homework.

"Okay," Miss Truman announced. "Get out your homework and let's see what we've found out. Hannah, do you have your book?"

I nodded, a big smile on my face, pulling out the huge book from my bag. I'm glad I didn't forget _this_ this morning; Miss Truman would be really interested in what I found, Dad was.

When I told him that we were studying family trees, he pulled out some very old photographs from the 1930's. There were some of my great-Gran and great-grandpa and some of Gran as a kid. It was strange to seem them all in black and white and they were all so formal. Photographs today were taken wherever and whenever people wanted.

"So Hannah," Miss Truman came up to me; time to tell her what I had found. "What you got for me?"

I pulled out the folded paper inside the book and opened it out to reveal the family tree I devised. It had me at the top with my brother Luke, my parents next, ending all the way at my great-great-grandparents in the 1900's. They were my favourite ancestors as that was where it got interesting.

"Wow, this is very impressive. You must have out a lot of work into this." She smiled fondly at my work. She traced her finger down to the bottom of the page and pointed.

"What do we have here?" she asked. I smiled widely and began a full flow of conversation; I had rehearsed this part. I wanted to get all the details right.

"Well, these are my great-great grandparents and they're much more interesting than the rest as there was a bit of a struggle trying to find them."

"How so?" She frowned at me.

"Well, the birth record of my great-great grandmother didn't exist on the websites you gave us."

"She's not on the Irish census? That's strange, though not uncommon. Where was she from?"

I gave her the birth certificate that I printed off. It had circled dates and different names highlighted making all of the things that made my search so worth while. She gasped, reading it over again and again.

"Hey, you lot!" she silenced the class and I blushed instantly. "We've found a very special ancestor here. Turns out that Hannah's great-great grandmother was none other than a lady of the English aristocracy in the 1900's"

People murmured wows and some tutted in jealously… until one boy shouted out to the class. Ugh! Jack; he would ruin the fun.

"Didn't the Irish hate the English though, in the 1900's? Maybe we should double check…" he suggested, raising an eyebrow at me. I have doubled checked, in fact I checked a million times; I even went to the library to see if they had any records there and her name isn't on the list.

"I have checked. Loads of times. I'll bring it up now if you want, or do you want to hear the rest of my findings?" I asked him and the while class. None of them answered just looked at each other, hoping that someone would answer. Jack scoffed, turning back to his work.

I smiled smugly and picked up my book, beginning to tell the rest.

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**A/N: What did you think? I know its not a good start but please stick with it.**

**I am going to do a different generation per chapter so they will be short. Anyone seen or studied the play '_My Mother Said I Never Should...'? _Its going to be structured like that.**

**Please tell me what you think so I know whether to keep writing, or else I won't.**

**Cheerio!**

**Jess xxx**


	2. A Funeral Kim 1970

**Helloo!**

**I didn't get any reviews but I got a few followers so I'm carrying on. Thanks you guys for subscribing! I know this chapters short. They all will be. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Kim Olivier**

**Mother of Hannah**

**3 years old**

**Dublin, Ireland**

**1970**

**12:17pm**

I looked up at my Ma from my drawing.

She was crying. I didn't know why. She was dressed in black. I could see Gran crying also. She was dressed in black too.

I didn't know what was wrong. I didn't know how to help.

So, I drew a happy picture. I wanted to make Ma smile.

Da is there. Haven't seen him in a while. He smiled at me, crouching down next to me to talk.

"What you drawn there Kimmy?" he asked kindly. Strange. He's usually not so nice. I pointed at the drawing and he smiled,

"Is that Ma?" he asked

I nodded. I didn't want to speak. Ma would get mad if I talk to him.

"Is that the house?"

Howse.

H-owese.

What's a howse?

I know that it's where we live but I didn't know that it was called a howse.

I nodded again. His breath smelt horrid. So did the bottle in his hand. He should stop drinking that drink.

"Kim?" my Ma spoke.

I looked at her. She was wiping her eyes. I don't like it when she's sad so I went to her. I hugged her legs; her hand started stroking my hair. It felt nice.

"Yes?" I spoke for the first time. I was lifted onto Gran's lap. She smelt like roses. It was a good smell unlike Da's breath.

"You alright, little one?" she asked me. I was fine. I knew that they weren't. Shouldn't I be alright?

I nodded and she smiled. She had tears in her eyes. I wiped them away. Ma laughed kindly. It didn't fool me. She was distracting herself from crying.

"Why you crying?" I whisper-asked Ma. She frowned, and then sighed.

"Don't you know what's happened, Kim?"

I shook my head. I didn't understand.

Ma cries all the time so I didn't see what the problem was. Gran tutted slightly and sighed.

She kissed my cheek. I didn't like the feel. I wanted to wipe it away.

"I don't think you'll remember but my grandmother, she…she, erm, passed away a few days ago. Do you remember her?" Ma said.

I shook my head. I didn't think I did. Gran showed me a picture. I didn't remember the woman in this photograph. She was pretty. She looked a bit like Ma.

"What 'passed away'?" I whispered. I didn't want anyone to hear my question. They may think it stupid.

Gran cried a little and I was handed to Ma. Gran ran out the room. Grandpa went after her. I frowned. What had I said?

"It means that she's gone…and she's not coming back. Ever," Ma whispered. "And it's very, very sad."

I nodded. Oh. No wonder Gran and Grandpa and Ma were sad. I kissed Ma on the cheek. She smiled. I like her smile. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

"What she like?" I asked. I knew nothing about her. That was what made me sad.

Ma looked at the picture again. She frowned. She was thinking.

"Well, Granny was a strong woman. Wonderfully nice, but strong. I remember, when Granddad was alive, they would argue for hours on end over the silliest things. In the end, they would be laughing at each other, knowing how daft they were being. She never gave up on a fight. She was a good women and I'm sad that you don't remember her." She said. She was crying again.

I frowned. I felt guilty for not knowing her.

"She sound nice." I whispered.

"Kimmy? Da's going now," Da announced. He walked up to me and Ma. She looked away, scowling.

She and Da fight a lot. Always have. Can't remember when they didn't fight. I don't like it. But Ma says to Gran that he drink lots. But Ma tells me to drink lots and she doesn't get mad. It's confusing. I saw the smelly bottle again. It must be that.

"Okay," I mumbled, reaching up to hug him. "Bye Da,"

Ma pulled me back again, away from Da. He frowned and then laughed. What was funny?

"Get out of here if you're going Seamus," Ma said, her voice sounded mean. Da scowled turning and rushing away. He didn't even say bye. That was rude. In fact, no-one else did either.

"Why do you hate Da so much, Ma?" I asked. Everyone around me turned their heads to me.

What had I said?

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**A/N: Just a little short one there. Kim is Hannah's mum. Don't worry, soon Downton and Tom + Sybil will be mentioned and used. **

**The stucture is going to change a little. Its going to alternate between a past generation and Hannah. So for chapter 3 will be Hannahs and chapter 4 could be her grandmother or even further back. **

**Please tell me what you think. **

**Cheerio!**

**J xxx**


	3. I Found You Hannah

**Helloo!**

**I'm pleased that I got some reviews from the last two chapters. They gave me the boost to continue. **

**Thank you all for the reviews and subscriptions.. I will get around to thanking people who reviewed by PM .. I wanted to get this up first.**

**Enjoy! **

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**Hannah Rowland**

**Dublin, Ireland**

**Same day – 2012**

**4:19pm**

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"Ma!" I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls of our house. It was only a tiny house, but a very old one. We moved in here after my great grandma died. This was her house. The walls weren't insulated so sounds echoed and bounced. I

could hear the heavy metal music coming from my older brother Luke's room. He was 19 and incredibly annoying. Ma keeps hinting at him to move out and I'm starting to as well. I want his bedroom.

"MA!" I screamed. The music got louder for a moment as a door opened.

"She's not here! What do you want?" Luke shouted back at me. His door slammed so he didn't want to hear my answer. I growled, dropping my school bag and running up to his door. I pounded on it and the music stopped. He opened the door again, glaring at me. His blonde hair was all quaffed and weird and his bright blue eyes blazed fire. He was mad at me and I didn't care.

"When she coming back?" I asked him.

"Don't know. Don't care. She's probably gone to see Nan or something. Why?"

I sighed; he was useless. I wanted to give him the full story but he was ashamed that I was such a nerd. Big deal; at least I will get a better job than him with my grades. He flunked out of school and he's now 'squatting' in mine and Ma's house.

"Just got to ask her something for history."

He groaned, shutting the door. He mumbled something to himself; something like, "Was that really worth disturbing me?"

Ass.

I went to my room, turning on my laptop, waiting for Ma to get home.

I researched some more into my family history on the net. I found a site which lets you look these things up; it also had immigration records so it was very handy.

I typed in my great-great grandmother's surname, Branson, knowing that she came from England I tried the English websites and I tried to find out where she was buried.

Nan told me that she was born in 1897 so it is common sense to think that she passed away years ago. If not then that's one hell of an ages she's lived to.

Nothing came up. But one name did come up with the same surname of Branson. A man called Tom. I pulled out my family tree to see what my great-great-Gran's husbands name was. Tom. The man that was on the website had the same details as my great-great-grandpa.

I gasped, finding a piece of paper to write down the location of the cemetery. I found him…and the cemetery in which he should be buried in wasn't far.

I grabbed my notes, bus fare and phone, stuffing them in a bag, any bag before changing into some other clothes and heading out the door.

"Hannah? Where are you going?" Ma asked, getting out of her car.

"Library!" I lied, running past her to make it to the bus stop on time.

When I reached the cemetery I frowned. I was always freaked out by them but now that I have a reason to be here, it wasn't so bad. I walked up the path, passing newer headstones and sighing. I felt sad for them even though I didn't know them. As I got closer to the church I found much older ones. There was one dated in the 1960's; I was getting close. I weaved through them, searching for the right name. They were quite worn and it was hard to differentiate the names. Then I found it. Underneath a rather nice tree was his grave. I crouched down, wiping it so to see the name much clearer.

_Thomas J Branson_

_15th March 1892 – September 2nd 1966_

_Aged 74_

_Beloved Husband, Father and Brother_

I sighed, smiling at nothing. 1892. That's over 100 years before I was born. I managed to buy some flowers before coming here; I laid half of them on his grave. Hopefully he would know that someone in his family still cared. I took notes of the dates and names, taking a photograph of the surrounding area for reference and was about to leave when I spotted another nearby.

Around the other side of the tree was another headstone. It was covered in ivy; I pulled it away so to read the name.

_Sybil P Branson nee Crawley_

_20th June 1897 – November 30th 1970_

_Aged 73_

_Loving Wife of Tom, Mother and Sister_

"Oh my," I gasped. I found her. All the research led me to believe that she wasn't buried in Ireland. But here she was. 1970; my Ma would have been 3.

Before I had asked Ma if she knew her; she said that she didn't. She may have been 3 years old but she must have been told something. I laid down the other half of the flowers, again making notes of dates and names, mainly Crawley. I knew that that wasn't an Irish name so it was worth research. When I looked it up before, Crawley was the name of an English noble family.

I would have believed it but her name had no title. I would have to look it up when I got home. But at least I found them, which was a good achievement.

At home, I printed out the photographs, sticking them in the book on the pages about them. I heard footsteps coming up behind me and I snapped the book shut, hiding the photos and information.

"Han? Time for tea. What have you got there?" Ma asked me, placing her hands on my shoulders. I sighed but she took the book, opening it to read. I could see her expression changing from curiosity to concern. Then I saw her open the page with the grave photos.

"Where did you get these?" she whispered. I stood, making it look like I was trying to see which photographs she meant, even though I knew already. I was in deep trouble.

"I lied before. It's for school; to find out about family history. I found some names and went to the church to see if I could find the graves. And I did. These are just for documentation."

She slammed the book shut, slamming it to the floor. Pieces of paper and other pictures floated out of it, scattering over the floor; I knelt down to grasp them all before I lost them I felt angry at my Ma's behaviour. What was that for?

"Ma!" I complained, trying to file the loose pieces back into the book. She said nothing, walking out of the room. I groaned; this took me forever to organise and now she's messed it all up!

I heard the door open behind me again and thinking that it was Luke, I turned to throw my shoe at him. But it was Ma. I dropped the shoe, standing, taking a closer look at what she had in her hand. Ma had a strange look on her face; like she had seen a ghost. I took the small photograph and looked at it. There was a man and a woman on it; it was black and white and very old.

"This is them," she said, blankly. "If you wanted to know so much about them, you should have just asked."

I frowned, studying the picture. The woman in the photo looked like me and a little like how Nan looked when she was younger. The man was handsome, and I could see a little bit of Luke in him. He wasn't tall, like Luke but there was one difference between them; Luke was lanky, he wasn't.

"Okay," I snapped in the same blunt tone. "Why is there no record of her anywhere? Where did she come from? Why is it such a secret?"

Ma said noting. She just exhaled, exasperated.

"See? This is what I want to know but no-one will tell me!" I shouted, turning to place the picture in the book. I heard my door slam; Ma had gone. I would show what I found to Miss Truman tomorrow.

Or Nan. Yes, she will be the next person I would see. I grabbed my book, packing it all into the same bag and walked the few streets to my Nan's house.

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**A/N: There you go! I really don't know where this is going but little sparks keep coming...**

**The next chapter will be centered around Hannah's Nan during the Second World War.**

** Please tell me what you think!**

**Cheerio!**

**J xxx**


	4. At Nan's House Hannah

**Hellooo!**

**Where have I been with this story? In truth, I kind of lost interest which I know is a rubbish excuse but after watching the film _ The Wind that Shakes The Barley _for my English course, my muse reappeared.**

**For those who haven't seen it, do! Its a good film, even though it made me cry :(**

**ANYWAY!**

**Enjoy this long overdue update. :D**

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**Hannah**

**Same day - June 2012**

**5pm**

**Dublin, Ireland**

"Nan!" I called, knocking on the door. Her hearing wasn't at her best; bless her, so we always had to call her whenever we came to the door. I could hear her grumbling and shuffling to the door; 'who's here at this time!" she'll be saying.

She swung the door open, her beady blue eyes peering through her small glasses at me. She took in the scene before her and smiled at me kindly. She still had brown hair, slightly lightened and wispy from age and the greys in it.

"Hannah, dear! How lovely to see you! Another spat with your mother?" She said. Nan was brilliant. A life saver. In the years after my Ma and Da getting divorced, things got a little messy between me and Ma. We were always fighting and, though she was my Ma's mother, I always ran to her for sanctuary, a shoulder to cry on and a bed for the night. She would take me gladly as she knew what a nightmare Ma was and she had been through a similar thing.

"I'm alright Nan, and no, not really, I'll tell you in a minute." I said, walking in as she stepped aside. Nan has offered to give me a key to her house many times, but it would feel like I was moving in rather than just occasional visits, and with no Da and Luke hopefully pissing off soon, she'd be alone.

"Tea, dear?"

"Yes please, Nan,"

I smiled; I love Nan's tea. She does it in a weird way that makes it really creamy. Yummy. I pulled out my project book, placing key pictures and information on the glass coffee table in front of me. I relaxed back into the plush sofa, taking in my surroundings.

It was everything you expected from an old woman's house. She had pictures of her family hanging up on the walls, past and present, the more recent members smiling and grinning widely, the others were very serious, more regal in their stance.

I noticed that near to the top was a faded picture frame shadow. You could see that a picture had been taken down. I pulled the small stool under the arm chair to take a closer look. I stroked the oval shaped shadow, tracing the circular line with my fingertip.

"Seen something of interest?" Nan said from behind me. I turned sharply, her eyebrow was raised and she had two cups of tea in her hands. I smiled sheepishly and stepped down from the stool, causing Nan to smile and chuckle.

"Always inquisitive." She sighed happily, giving me my cup of tea.

We watched the television whilst drinking our tea. It calmed my frazzled nerves and unstable anger from mine and Ma's argument. Nan kept eying me; I noticed out of the corner of my eye. She would watch my face for any traces of thought to flicker across my face. When I thought about Ma, she noticed me frown.

"Now what's happened, dear? Do tell," She insisted. She was about to place her cup down on the table when she noticed my book and the pictures. She studied them, smiling surprised at the intrusion in her pristine living room.

"What on earth is all this? Is this what your awfully melancholy face is about?" she asked. I stuttered, unsure of what to say. She picked up the book, carefully flicking through the pages, her eyes scrutinising the information. I hoed that she wouldn't have the same reaction Ma had. When I heard her breath catch, I winced, trying to hide behind my tea cup.

"Hannah?" she inquired, her gaze burning the side of my face. I couldn't look at her. I blushed furiously, very embarrassed and scared. What would she think? I know that I've unearthed…something but I don't know what!

"Hannah!" she snapped and I slowly concentrated my gaze on her. I sat up from my sunken position and frowned. She wasn't mad; her face was soft and looked slightly, guilty?

"Yes Nan?" I whispered. She smiled and chuckled, patting the sofa next to her. I moved over, no doubt for her to look at the book.

"You were right; this is what my 'face' is about. Ma and I had an argument. She wouldn't tell me anything! She said that I should have asked her but when I did -nothing!"

My voice was wavering by the end of my little rant. I could feel all my pent up emotions coming to the surface and I could feel the familiar pang of angry tears coming to the surface. Nan sighed. She scanned through the selection of pictures silently, her face neutral.

"Well, you have been busy," she stated, smiling humorously. I sighed, relaxing my tense body and lumping back into the comfy chair. Nan moved closer, taking my hand gently and rubbing it, telling me that she wasn't angry and that she was trying to soothe me.

"So, you're not mad. I'm glad." I smiled. "Now please, what's going on?"

Nan sighed, standing to go toward her dresser, donned with precious crystal pieces and plates. She reluctantly pulled open one of the draws, pulling out a round object. It looked like a photo frame and as she neared I saw that that was exactly what it was. It was a dark wooden one, with a pattern carved into the surface of it. In the frame were a man and a woman, on their wedding day. They were smiling slightly and were stood under the arch of the doorway to the church. The picture was very old and slightly fuzzy but through that I recognised their faces.

"That's them on their wedding day. I found it in a box that my mother put straight up in the attic. I wasn't sure why at first but when I found out I-"

She stopped then, huffing in annoyance. She wouldn't look at me, she couldn't look at me. My curious eyes wanted to know more and she didn't want to tell me. I finished her sentence for her,

"You hid it away again."

She nodded. "But why?"

She smiled weakly, meeting my eyes. She looked like she would cry but they wouldn't be sad tears. They were angry tears.

"Look at the picture, really look," she whispered.

I looked her deliriously. What was she talking about? There were only my great-great grandmother and grandfather in the picture. I was about to speak when she shook her head. I obviously hadn't found what she was looking for.

I scanned the picture again. There was the archway and the flowers and them of course and the man stood by the tree- wait.

I studied it again and there was the silhouette of a man standing by the tree in the background, the long billowing leaves hiding him, but not completely. I wondered for a moment why he was of such importance, he may have been a guest, but I then noticed that his face was peering at them and his body language showed that he didn't want to be seen.

He was watching them.

"The man," I said and Nan nodded. "Who was he?"

She shook her head.

"Every family has enemies dear, and they may be closer than you think." She said warningly. It was definitely a reprimand. I sat back a little and nodded; she wanted me to stop with my 'research' which, I'm positive, was turning into an investigation.

"Okay Nan but do you know why he was there?"

"Like I said, everyone has enemies and sometimes we don't want to believe that our own family has some. Do you know who she was?"

I shook my head; all I knew was that she was my relative and that she or both of them did something bad.

"She was a noblewoman, a Lady no less, from England."

I widened my eyes. It's basic history that the Irish and the English have never gotten along, especially during the 20th Century and a little into the 21st, in my time; it never occurred to me that some could look over the hate and turn it to love. I smiled; they must have been brave.

"Are you listening?" she snapped, bringing me out of my little daydream.

"Sorry,"

"Anyway," she continued, looking very disapproving. "She lived in England somewhere, I think it was in the east, I don't know, but Tom went over there to work. He drove her family's car but he always wanted to be in politics and so did she, on the inside. Long story short, dear, they fell in love, insulted her whole family and moved here to live with his Mam,"

I nodded and smiled again. It all sounded so…romantic and daring. I could imagine her family, all shocked at the thought of her running away and marrying a lowly but highly ambitious Irishman instead of some Lord in a stuffy house.

"Now, you know in that time, the English weren't exactly well received, oppressing people and killin' for no reason…you can imagine the reception they got,"

I nodded; I knew exactly what reception they would get. No doubt she would be hated and all the repercussions that came along with it. I would have pressed for more but Nan reached for a tissue, wiping her eyes and putting down the photograph on the glass table.

I sat in silence, watching her cry soundless tears. I didn't want to ask any more pressing questions; I hated it when anyone cried but Nan, now that was a heart breaker.

"What were they like?" I asked quietly, trying to make her happy again. I didn't want her to think of the bad things about them, only the good.

"Tom and Sybil?" she smiled and then laughed. "Gran was kind, loving and strong. No physically but she knew what she wanted in her life and she fought to get it; Granda was funny, gentle when he wanted to be but he was big headed and sharp as a tack. Nothing got past him and when those two fought; they fought. Oh, some of the little spats they had!" Nan laughed. She wiped away a stray joyful tear and sighed, no doubt remembering. They would still be alive when she was little.

"But you could see that they loved one another dearly. They were still the young couple running from England to make a new life inside no matter how old they got. Your Ma never knew Granda but Gran died when she was three."

I nodded, taking it all in. I could see the resemblance between us all in the couple; in their description and the photo. Luke was a pain but he could make a good joke when he wanted; Mam was tough and argumentative, but kind all the same and Nan, well, she had to be the spitting image of Sybil, in both look and personality. But the thing is, so am I. Especially in my fight.

I want answers.

"Nan, I want to ask, and I know its going to be a hard question but, when did you find out what happened? With them I mean. I know something happened, Nan. You can't hide it from me forever."

She sighed, standing slowly and placed the picture back up on the wall, covering the faded space there.

"Fine," she gave in. "But you'll need that," she pointed down at the table.

I took my book from the coffee table and began to write notes in my little handbook.

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**A/N: There you go!**

**The next one will be up soon! I promise! Now I know what I'm writing again, the next chapter will either be from Nan's view or Tom and Sybil's son Liam (Hannah's great grandfather; Nan's father). Haven't decided yet but I will soon :)**

**Tell me what you think!**

**Cheerio!**

**J xxxx**


	5. Unexpected Attack Liam 1941

**Helloooo! I know its been a while but heres the next part! This is set during World War 2 and is from the point of view of Tom and Sybil's child.**

**Enjoy!**

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_**Liam Branson**_

_**19 years old**_

_**31st May 1941**_

_**around 1am**_

_**Dublin, Ireland**_

* * *

At first, I thought it was someone knocking on my door, so naturally, I was pissed off that someone had woken me up. I lit a match, putting it next to the small clock hanging on my wall. Almost 1 in the morning; what is wrong with people? Again, with the banging! I pulled on my dressing gown, being careful not to wake my fiancée, Sharon, who was asleep next to me. I marvelled at how she could sleep though all that racket. I chuckled, willing myself to go downstairs to the front door.

As I neared it, I smelt…smoke, was it? It didn't smell quite right for smoke but I was too sleepy to notice. I grumbled as the bangs were louder than before; obviously whoever it was, wanted in my house. It was probably my friend, Darrell, who, completely daft as he is, decides to get drunk out of his mind every night. He's spent many a night on my couch, eating my food in the morning. Bloody freeloader, I really don't know why I'm friends with him.

The bangs came again and I opened the door,

"Alright alright, I'm coming!" I groaned and I was met with…nothing. Just the street. I looked around, shaking my head, but as I was about to leave; I noticed fire…and lots of it.

I heard the bangs again and the slight whirr of planes. I saw, just above the horizon of the outer city, explosions. I then realised what was happening. We were being bombed. Dublin was being bombed. But why? I understand Belfast; they're still a part of the British but here? Nah, I must be seeing things; we're not a part of the war. But I was soon woken out of that realisation as another one hit, much closer to the outskirts and nearer the neighbourhood in front of me.

Shit!

"Sharon! Sharon! Get up!" I shouted, leaving the door and bounding up the stairs.

"Liam? What're you on about?" she replied, drowsy and very annoyed. I pulled the covers off the bed, throwing clothes, any clothes at her to get dressed. Another bang hit and I could hear faint screaming and sirens from the fire brigade.

Sharon heard it too; this got her attention, thankfully, and she began dressing.

"What's happening?" she hissed.

"I don't know! Bombs I think?"

"British ones? Is it revenge for not joining the war and helping them?" she gasped, but her anger was well known. She started scowling at me and growling under her breath.

I shook my head, rejecting her theory even though she had a point.

"No, can't be. I saw the planes; they weren't British ones. Too large."

Sharon smirked and giggled. She always teased me for knowing so much about engines and how things worked. I blame my Pa. Shit! I ran to the phone, hopelessly dialling the number. They could still be asleep and be none the wiser. I know that in London and other places like it in England they have all kinds of bomb protection. We don't. We're neutral, apparently we don't need it. They were wrong weren't they?

The phone rang and my mother's voice sounded.

"Hello?"

Thank god, they're alive.

"Ma! Thank god, right, erm, have you looked outside? If you haven't, I suggest you do. There's something wrong," I said. I knew that if I started raving about bombs and other stuff, she'd hang up the receiver and no doubt go back to bed.

"Hello Liam. Right, okay," she sighed. I heard the receiver drop and a deep disgruntled voice complaining. Pa.

"Oh my goodness!"

There. She'd seen it. I could hear them panicking on the other end of the phone and it was loud enough that they couldn't hear me.

"Ma! MA! Pick up the receiver! MA!" I shouted.

I felt Sharon come up behind me, giving me my coat and whispered.

"What about my parents?"

I sighed, rolling my eyes. I could see that she was offended but she didn't red the news as much as I did.

"Your parents live in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere! I think they'll be okay. Germans only bomb cities." I hissed and she shrugged, stomping downstairs. I, again, shouted at my parents down the phone and sighed when my father decided to answer me.

"Yeah, we're here stop shouting." He grumbled. Another bang went off and more screams started. They were closer this time, much closer.

"Good, go and get in the basement. Take down food with you and anything else. I now you're going to complain but just do it would you?" I ordered, then hanging up as Sharon started shouting at me to flee the house.

I hoped that they'd be okay.

I took Sharon's hand as I reached the door, stopping in my tracks as there were more houses and buildings on fire much closer to us than we first thought. Our neighbours ran up the street, away from their homes and the fire and by general knowledge the bombs.

"Let's go!" I shouted and we ran, leaving everything behind. The crowd fleeing gained in populous, almost making it impossible to see anything ahead. More explosions sounded and people started running down the alley ways, which of course was no option as anyone could be down there…and they would not have the best intentions. I still kept a firm hold on Sharon's hand, when something behind me knocked my footing, loosening my hold on her and throwing me to the floor. I felt small sharp objects searing over me and cutting my hands, clothes and my face. I tried standing but there were too many people and the heat was too much. I felt the familiar shock wave that knocked me down in the first place and banged my head on the cobbled road.

_**7am**_

_**31st May 1941**_

_**Liam**_

For some bizarre reason, I felt wet. I tried to make sense of it but I couldn't. I remembered the heat and the tremor making me hit my head, knocking me out cold but no water. I groaned, turning on my back to face the sunlight when water was thrown in my face.

"He's alive. That's good then," a voice said. I swear they were laughing a bit.

"It's not funny," another reprimanded. I knew that voice anywhere. The accent was distinctly English but had a noticeable Irish twang. It made her sound informal yet formal at the same time. As a kid, some of the words made me laugh. "He could have been seriously hurt," She hissed.

More water was thrown on me and I came too, sharply and quickly.

"What the-?" I spluttered, scrambling to my feet. That was a bad move because as soon as I was up, I fell right back on my arse again…and it bloody hurt. Laughter erupted from someone and was soon stopped.

"Are you alright Liam?" a woman asked.

"Yeah, I'm alright." I mumbled, rubbing my head and I looked up to see my Ma and Sharon. I saw Pa and my uncle having a good old laugh at something. Then I remembered. Me.

I scowled and my mother chuckled.

"Bang your head? It seems to be okay from where I'm sitting." She said, examining my head for probably the billionth time in my life. As a kid I was always falling over and bumping into stuff. It was mostly my Brother Sean's fault. He always got into trouble and managed to drag me into it too. Though the last time he got into trouble, I stayed well clear of him. We all do.

"That's good. You alright ma?" I asked her and she nodded. With my Ma and Pa in their late forties early fifties, I was a little concerned. Ma looked frail but she wasn't. She had a strong stomach and will from being a nurse. Pa was the same, he looked old but he was strong. He had threatened and fought away some troublemakers who tried to burgle their house.

"I'm grand lad. You had a bad fall though. A bomb went off just in the next street, knocking you down and others behind you. It also blew out the glass cutting you in some places and there was a small fire." She sighed. She showed me my hands, all cut and bloodied. Sharon winced behind my mother and I shrugged it off.

"It doesn't hurt too much, just need it bandaged up."

They both helped me to my feet, my father and uncle on stand by in case I fell again. They all said that I should go to hospital but I knew that it would be heaving, and all I had were a few cuts. I'm sure that there's people worse off then myself.

"No I'm alright. Don't you have your kit Ma?" I asked her and she frowned. She always had some kind of medical supplies knocking around her house.

"Our glass got smashed through and there was a fire near by. Our house might not be there due to the fire," She sighed.

My Pa came over to us, pulling Ma from me and into a slight hug. He rubbed her arm and kissed her forehead, murmuring to her that it would be okay. I understood; their whole life was in that house. I was born there along with my 3 sisters; my older brother was born at my Ma's childhood home. That place was a fecking castle.

"Well, where have you been all this time?" I asked.

"Sinead's. She turned up at our house, turfed us out and let us stay with them. They were too far away to hear the damage but they saw it." Pa said. I nodded, wincing as one of the cuts on my neck stretched.

"Come on, hospital, now." Ma ordered and I did as I was told. Sharon held me up slightly, rubbing my arm and kissing my cheek,

"I'm glad you're safe,"

Pa had gone to work whilst Ma and Sharon took me to the hospital. I saw many people there I recognised, some of them friends and some of them enemies. I saw the Riley's. Bastards the lot of them. They were all alike: big, brawny and half a brain cell between them all. I glared at them, eyeballing them until they noticed me; they did and they didn't look impressed, like I cared. They'll pay for what they did and the feeling is probably mutual. They began to walk over and I instantly straightened up, staring right into the eyes of Joe, the eldest brother and saying nothing. We exchanged nothing but hate and each others names.

"Joe,"

"Liam," he said with a smirk. His bothers sneered and my anger peaked up a little more. Ma stepped in then, frowning.

"Pack it in the lot of you, move on Joe," she warned and I saw her try to push us past but he was having none. He pushed my mother slightly, making he stumble and me see red. Others around us started whispering and tutting at Joe's behaviour.

"Piss off," he hissed. He looked at me even though it was directed at her. I was about to loose it, use my injured hands to beat the living crap out of him when Mr Riley put a hand on my shoulder, smirking.

"Now, now Branson. Don't loose your top else you'll hurt your hands more, and no doubt your family pride."

I just scowled at him, as his gaze moved over to Ma. I knew that Mr Riley and Ma and Pa knew each other when they were younger; I wasn't sure why we hated them or why they hated us but I was brought up to do so. When he did next made my skin crawl. This guy, I could tell, was one of the slimy ones; the ones that you don't want in your family.

"Sybil," he smiled, which was completely twisted and winked at her. She cringed and dismissed his lewd advance by completely ignoring him.

He huffed and started laughing before calling his sons, more like a posse, away with him.

"Are you alright Mrs Branson?" Sharon asked.

Ma nodded and shuddered.

"That man…has and will always be vulgar." She whispered and pulled me toward a seat, sitting me down before going to retrieve some bandages.

The hospital was heaving; there were people of all kinds: men women, children, and the elderly all being brought in for in injuries of many kinds. There were also plenty of sheet covered stretchers. I couldn't bear to look at the small ones because I knew that children were under there. Poor beggars. Ma wrapped my hands up good and tight and told me to take Sharon home as she was staying to look after as many people as she could.

As we left I saw the Riley's all stood by their cars, sneering and glaring at us. Some of them laughed and jeered at us, trying to belittle me more than Sharon but it was ineffective. I could see that this wasn't going to stop until the truth came out.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked it! Now this is included in Nan's story: I just did it from the present time. **

**Well, there's definitely something going on! bit of a vendetta or grudge it seems. **

**Please tell me what you think!**

**Cheerio!**

**J xxx**


	6. Arrival Sybil 1919

**Helloooo!**

**Here's the next little bit. This is starting off the truth...it;s not going to be nice - I have almost finished writing it so the story wont be too long in coming. **

**Just want to say thank you to Duchess and hess who were my reviewers .. sorry I didn't thank you personally, I have been insanely busy! And to everyone else who followed and subscribed and all the rest - THANK YOU! everything is appreciated so much :D**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_**Rosemary Olivier**_

_**Hannah's Nan**_

_**Her house**_

_**June 2012**_

_**Dublin, Ireland**_

I always knew that my grandchild was a nosey one. Well, not nosey, per se, just overly curious. When she asked me about my grandparents, I wanted to scream. I wanted to grab her by her collar and physically chuck her out. But I never would. I love her too much and she needs me. Poor lass. My daughter gives her too much grief sometimes and I know she doesn't mean to. But I know that this girl won't stop with giving me grief until she gets the truth.

It's time to pass on the story I guess, the whole truth. Not anyone else's made up tale. The lot. I told her about Dad being in the completely unjustified bombing of Dublin and how he hated the Riley's. Oh god, I can't tell her…I think the truth would hurt her.

I watched her as she scrawled down the main bits of that part to the story and when she looked up, I carried on, going right back, well far enough for her to know the whole truth...

* * *

_**Sybil Branson**_

_**April 1919**_

_**Dublin, Ireland**_

As I stepped off the boat, my smile must have been the biggest and the daftest of them all. Though I had travelled by sea before, the painfully long journey over to America to see Grandmamma, I had never been so excited because I knew that I was here to stay; there was no living out of suitcases, this was now home. It was raining - could it be anything else? – I felt Tom come up behind me, umbrella in hand and ushering me over to the luggage.

"I can't believe its raining. The first time you come here and it's bloody raining!" Tom groaned, trying to juggle holding the umbrella and picking up the suitcases. Unless he had 6 arms, he wasn't going to do it. I took the umbrella from him, talking it down and putting it in my back. As I reached for two of the suitcases Tom stared at me with a frown to accuse me of being mad.

"You're going to get soaked!" he shouted over the noise of the large crowd.

"But you need help! Besides, you're just as wet!" I shouted back. I felt someone pushing me, no doubt trying to get through the mass throng. I tried to get out of the way but there were just too many people! Surely there weren't this many on the boat!

We found a clear, dry spot in an archway of the dock building, make sure that we had gathered everything and rest for a moment.

"It's a nightmare getting off them boats." Tom grumbled again. I could see that this wasn't going according to his plan of smooth travel. I tried to tell him that it doesn't matter; that I would have to get used to it and why not start now, but wasn't having it. Instead I told him to stop moaning and just get on with it. I saw the smirk creeping and hovering on the corner of his lips as he gave a mock salute, murmuring 'Yes Ma'am' under his breath. I tried told hold in the stubborn giggle, but I couldn't.

"My god!" a voice came from behind us, making me jump slightly and Tom look up with a frown. "Can I believe my eyes? Tom Branson back here? That can't possibly be!"

A cheerful man exulted, who seemed to make Tom smile in return, and held his arms out wide for a friendly embrace. Tom returned it, laughing and joking in Gaelic with this 'stranger' to me. I looked anywhere but those two, trying to take in the surroundings and fidgeting with my nails. It was some time before the same man said,

"Who is this you've brought back with you? You didn't kidnap her did you?"

Tom elbowed him in the ribs and chuckled lightly.

"No, I didn't steal her. Thankfully, she wanted to come on her own,"

I sighed, very perturbed – I don't like being referred to as 'she'.

"This is Sybil, my fiancée-"

The man interrupted again, his loud voice and brutish demeanour really grating my nerves. I could see by his hands that they were rough and callous; he probably worked in manual labour and the way Tom flinched from his seemingly playful slaps to the arm showed that he was strong. Too strong.

"Fiancée?! You've got to be joking. You want to marry this one?" he laughed, right in my face.

And I thought Papa was being childish about all of this. This was just above normal standards of joking and jesting. In the garage, Tom would make fun of me, mostly the way I pronounced some words in my stupidly posh accent, which stuck out like a saw thumb here, but he wouldn't laugh in my face like this man was. He would chuckle a little but he made it obvious the it was a joke. The statement obviously had some mocking not only of Tom, but of me; these two have a history but there's no need for jesting for people you've only just met!

"Yes," I snapped with dictation. "I love him, why shouldn't I?"

He laughed at me, again; tom had stopped, stepping away from him. I still don't even know his name.

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"I'm one of Tom's old friends before he jumped ship. James Riley,"

I know I shouldn't judge a book by its cover but I hated that man, and the way he, well what felt like to me to be very crudely squeezed my hand as we shook hands, only exacerbated it. I shivered when he finally left, Tom's expression still the slightly stormy one he had been wearing since this Riley fellow openly embarrassed me. I hoped.

We finally made it to Tom's mother's house a while later and I couldn't shake the sickening feeling in my stomach that we would be seeing more of James.

"Are you alright, love?" Tom asked me, his voice slipping back into his think Irish brogue. Great, we'd only been here a few hours and I was already loosing track of what he was saying. He poked the fire again, sending out a wave of warmth, soothing me a bit more. He settled back on the small sofa, me cuddling into his chest; the same position we've been in most of the afternoon.

"Sort of. I just felt- how do you know James?"

"He creeped you out, huh?" he asked. I could feel the smile in his voice. This was a common occurrence then. I sighed, relived that I didn't have to explain t all, which would end up in me insulting him in some way.

"Very. There was something about him that didn't sit right with me - I don't know," I tried to answer.

"Don't worry; he makes most women feel like that. But don't fret lass, he'll calm down in about a week and you'll get used to him. You might actually like him," Tom chuckled.

This comforted me a slight margin, though I didn't quite believe him. I could see how James was like that with other people but the way that he looked at me and the utterly…slimy way he held himself around me and carried himself, compared to Tom and one of his sisters whom we met on the way back… no, something wasn't right with him.

* * *

**A/N: So,, what did you think?**

**I have a wonderful little plot line just all cooked up for you :D I cannot wait for you all to read it! I go on holiday in 4 days so I wont have any updates for a while .. maybe until September .. :O:O shocking, i know. **

**Please tell me what you think!**

**Cheerio!**

**GMJ17 xxx **


	7. An Enemy Sybil 1919

**Helloooo :D**

**Another update? Man, I'm spoiling you guys :P...**

**thank you to everyone who reviewed and subscribed - made me happy :D**

**Enjoy :D **

* * *

_**Sybil**** Branson**_

_**Tom's brother's birthday party**_

_**12:48am**_

_**29th September 1919**_

_**Dublin, Ireland**_

I didn't really know Harry, Tom's younger brother, too well; he didn't live in Dublin or anywhere near it so I rarely spoke to him but I hadn't stopped laughing at him all night. He, along with his brothers, including Tom, and brothers in law, all hopelessly and uselessly drunk, were trying their hardest to play a game of cards and Harry was shouting slurred unrecognisable words at Tom, who I think was winning. It was a game I didn't know but all that I did know was that Tom was very good at it…well, I hoped he was anyway.

As I drunk some more of this…I don't know what it is, all I know is that it is alcohol and that Tom got it for me; he told me to not accept a drink from anyone but him, saying that his brothers would have mixed much stronger whisky in it that would make me ill. I told him that he was being silly but when his brother, Damien, brought a drink over to me; one sip and I wanted to run away from the throng of people and be sick.

My head was buzzing slightly and my vision was quite blurred as I found Tom sat at the table, wrapping my arms around his neck and lounging over him. He smelt of beer and smoke; he only smoked at Christmas and his birthday, which is fine with me, if it was all the time, I wouldn't approve. I went with the wonderful confidence alcohol gave me and nibbled his neck, knowing that it would distract him and hopefully give the others a better game. He still won anyway.

"Hey! Hey! Give it!" Tom laughed raucously, gesturing with his hands for the boys to hand over their money. He turned to me, smirking.

"Your distractions don't work my dear," he mock scolded, lightly tapping my cheek with his palm. I giggled, going back to the same place I lightly teased before.

"Then I have failed miraculously," I murmured in his ear, nipping his ear lobe before kissing his neck again.

I could see Tom faltering and the others chuckling at the sheer concentration on his face, which probably wasn't solely on the game but on himself. It was quite fascinating how much of an effect wife's had on their husbands – because that was the truth of it; men aren't the influential figures in a marriage, their wife's are. I chuckled as Tom lost another hand, and the scornful look on his face told me that he wasn't impressed. They stopped for a little break, all laying down their cards ready to resume again later. Tom leant back, holding my face so he could whisper in my ear.

"Why are you making me lose the game?" he whined, peppering little kisses on the side of my face between words.

"Who said that you're losing the game? I only want you to lose a few hands. Make the others think they have a fighting chance," I said, smirking devilishly as I could see his expression practically matching his brain working out my plan. He smiled widely, kissing me soundly before resting his head at the crook of my neck.

"Sneaky," he mumbled into it, before giving me a light bite on my shoulder.

I gave a low, naughty giggle, making Tom groan a little and began to relish in the closeness and the intimacy of the moment, even though there were people all around us. I was rudely snapped out of my state when a hand firmly slapped my bum, making my squeal and jump a bit. It wasn't Tom; it was too hard to be Tom's hands and I could see them both anyway. I looked around me and I inwardly groaned and vomited at the same time.

James sort of slinked around the table, pulling up a seat next to Tom's brother, slyly winking at me before Tom noticed and I turned away in complete disgust. I know that he knows I despise him; Tom knows it too, especially since James tried to seduce me at my own wedding. James asked me to dance with him, and at that point, I had sort of warmed to him; I actually thought I liked him for a fleeting moment but then he started leaning uncomfortably close to me, whispering incredibly crude things in my ear and trying to pin me against the secluded wall around a blind spot in the hall. I swore that I even felt his hand wander up my skirt. I slapped him around the face – the first time I've hit anyone I think, and it was worth it – going straight to Tom. Of course, as soon as Tom knew, James went home with a black eye, a bleeding lip and a threat of another beating if Tom saw him anywhere near me again. We haven't seen him since…until right now.

I eyed Tom and he didn't look pleased. He patted his lap and I sat down on him, completely prohibiting James from doing anything and showing him that I was off limits.

"You alright, Tom? Looking a little mad," James asked, smirking behind his pint glass.

Tom let out a resentful laugh, picking up his cards again as the game started again. I whined a little when James got his cards, meaning that he would be joining in the game; I know this is going to get personal. I kissed Tom on the lips before whispering,

"Don't do anything stupid. You know he's playing you,"

He nodded, winking before squeezing my bum in front of James. I shook my head before smacking him lightly, walking away from the table to join Tom's sisters and the other girls.

The game had gone on for another hour before the men got bored of Tom and James' arguing. It had been a two man game for a long time and it was becoming more and more hostile. Already Mrs Branson had told them both to pack it in and that warning fell on deaf ears. I didn't notice how bad it got until Tom launched himself at James, pushing him to the floor and punching him soundly around the jaw.

"Oh my god!" I screamed, running over with a few others, pulling Tom away from him. Fists were thrown all over the place and dodging them was quite a task.

"I'm going to punch out your fucking lights, do you hear me?" Tom threatened, James completely immobile from his weight and strength. James nodded but laughed a little, causing him to get another punch in the gut before Tom stood, swearing and shaking his sore hands.

I took one, pulling him outside to calm down; the cool air should do him some good. Before we left, James slowly got up, being harrowed and scolded by Mrs Branson in Gaelic to 'get the fuck out of here and go home', he sauntered out of the pub, his pride clearly hurt and the glint in his eye told me that this wasn't the last we'd see of him and the next time we did it wouldn't be pretty… and it wasn't.

I lead tom around the side of the building, looking him over before James came up to us, pointing and shouting at us.

"nach bhfuil sé seo níos mó ná, an bhfuil tú ag éisteacht liom? Fucking tú bastaird!"

Tom ignored him, until James took a step closer toward me, Tom dashed in front.

"Sybil? I'll be seeing you darlin'" he smirked, puckering his lips so to kiss the air and I shuddered. I could tell that this made Tom see red but he somehow managed t control himself not to go after him and strangle him.

"Tom? Tom! Ignore him, he's not worth it. Let me see what he did," I cooed to him, trying to calm him down. He hissed slightly when I dabbed a little alcohol on the bloodied gash in his hairline, but I knew that it would make it better and a little more protected until I could stitch it up.

One thing that still bothered me was what actually started the fight. I was brave, extremely brave for even thinking to ask this.

"What did he say to you Tom?" I asked quietly, still gently dabbing cuts and tidying him up. I felt him seethe a little at the question, his muscles tensing and his grip on me getting a little tighter.

"Doesn't matter," he quipped. Sigh. Why does he have to be so difficult all the time? I didn't want to make this any more painful for him so I didn't push it any further. What surprised me was Tom leaning back against the wall and pulling me a little closer, telling me all.

"He's a sneaky bastard Sybil, more so than I thought he was. I didn't know he was here. Else I would have punched him sooner. I hate him, love, I fucking-Did you know he's a part of that IRA with his brother? For god sake, he tried to bribe me to be a part of it, which…I have just realised, was blackmail. Fucking little-"

"Shh." I stopped him, placing a finger on his lips. He kissed it before taking my hand, placing it on his cheek. "Let's not worry about him. You've tried to get the message across, verbal and otherwise," I traced my finger over his slight cut to emphasise my point; "he's obviously not getting it. Let's not talk about him please. I love you"

I kissed him sweetly on the lips, which soon turned very heated and teeth began to bite and nibble bottom lips and each others necks. The rough brick of the wall suddenly scraped my back as I was lifted into the air and pinned against it. I locked my ankles, trapping Tom and keeping me up.

"I think this…may be the most…risqué…thing we've ever done, or about to anyway," I whispered, trying to keep my giggles quiet as the adrenaline started to flow and mixed in with the alcohol, it made me feel incredibly giddy.

"Really? Out here? I thought you'd never ask," he whispered back, pushing my skirt back over my knees, bunching it up at my waist.

* * *

**_They burst through the door, caring not for the soundly sleeping souls inside. Young children started to cry and their father was pulled from his bed, their mother screaming to let him go. The brutes with guns pushed her down and away, scaring the children and making them squeal. They asked him his name but he wouldn't speak a word. They took him outside and punched him, again – your name? not a word. This went on for a while, too long for someone without strength and will to endure. A passer-by saw it all, he too was beaten and bruised; he ran over, trying to stop the gunners but all they did was push him over, before giving him a swift kick to the gut. The poor sod taken and trapped shouted, _**

**"_Help me brother! James!"_**

**_But he couldn't move, instead he cried, as James Riley realised that the war had just begun and he would get his brother back by any means necessary..._**

* * *

**A/N: oh shit... thats not good, at all! Who turned James' brother in to the Army? And they did it outside - that's hot right? :P**

**Please tell me what you think!**

**Who else enjoyed the Olympics? :D :D I loved it! Again, I have to applaud the London 2012 games and Team GB... I watched the closing ceremony last night and truly, I think Rio have their work cut out for them to live up to that, just as we did after Beijing. No-one can put on a show that so many acts, bands and all the rest are worldly known like we can... and Muse and Darcey Bussell were brilliant :D **

**Update soon :D**

**Cheerio!**

**GMJ17 xxxx**


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